


Pyromaniac

by robbstarkswoman



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-09
Updated: 2014-09-09
Packaged: 2018-02-16 17:19:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2278185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robbstarkswoman/pseuds/robbstarkswoman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because he's always been fire – burning, exploding, crackling, and far too dangerous to touch, yet far too alluring to miss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pyromaniac

He finds you again. This time, you're curled in a ball, looking out over the grounds and pretending like you hope he won't come, when you're secretly hoping he actually will.

And he does. You feel his warmth as he sits heavily on the slates beside you before pulling out a packet of cigarettes. You hate smoking, but when it's him, you're drawn to it.

He lights one, the end forming the only colour in the night, a tantalising orange that brightens up the greys and blacks that the night brings. The colour draws you in closer to him, and you can't seem to tear your eyes away.

Because he's always been fire – burning, exploding, crackling, and far too dangerous to touch, yet far too alluring to miss.

You suspect you've become a bit of a pyromaniac in a way, obsessed with fire, with him.

You wonder if he's noticed.

"What are you doing out here, Lav?" he asks wearily. It's not the first time you've met here on the roof outside the Transfiguration classroom. It's not the first time your eyes have met his and you feel the fireworks in your heart –  _pop, pop_ ,  ** _boom_**.

But your defence mechanism comes up, and around your feelings you place an ice box, ( _hopefully_ ) strong enough that his fire cannot break through.

"I'm thinking. Or I was until you so rudely interrupted" you say.

It's almost a game. A game of who can forget the ongoing war the most. A game of who can make the other burn the most, and you eagerly fan the flames, not caring that you are the one most likely to get hurt.

Because you're just fragile little Lavender Brown, a delicate flower in amongst the thorns at Hogwarts, and fire can burn you easily.

He looks at you and chuckles weakly. It lights an inferno in your heart that you try so very hard to ignore, but you can feel the heat slowly melting the box you just erected.

"You need to stop doing this. We need to stop doing this, before you freeze."

It's not right, you think. He's broken the cycle. And anyway, it doesn't matter if you freeze, because his fire is warm enough to keep the both of you alive.

So you shuffle closer to him, carefully. You may not be afraid of fire anymore, but you're still afraid of heights.

The effect is instantaneous. You snuggle into him and your body lights up with warmth.

Is it normal for this to happen? Is it safe? After all, flowers don't do well with heat.

"Seamus?" you ask quietly, feeling rather than hearing his murmur of response.

"Can I stay in your room tonight?"

He stiffens and you immediately pull back, chastened. Of course he won't want you to; the spiteful part of your brain tells you. You're only just becoming friends, and now he's probably going to think you want to sleep with him.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have said that. I'll just go."

You are berating yourself harshly in your head. Why did you even ask that?

But of course, you know why. You're a little too in like with this fiery boy and you've never felt more alone in your life. Parvati is off god-knows-where, and the other girls in your dormitory never returned at the beginning of the year.

You stand up and slowly step around the window, bending down and lightly placing your feet firmly back on the floor. It's time for your head to get out of the clouds too.

Stupid. That's what you are, asking a boy if you can stay in his room. That sort of behaviour was the old Lavender Brown, thank you very much. The flirty, giggling, shallow Lavender who usually got something when she wanted it.

"Wait," you hear, and then feel a burning sensation on your arm. It's his hand, grabbing your arm and his eyes are looking into your eyes as if they were on fire.

"There are spare beds. So you can."

* * *

You lie on the clean sheets and pillows but it's not quite right. Neville isn't here, he's in the Room of Requirement, and you know that soon Seamus will be joining him. His bruises have just about healed, and it won't be long until he gets some more.

But you're lying on Harry or Ron or Dean's bed, and it's just not right. You can't sleep in any of these beds, knowing that any of them could be dying, or dead, or locked up right now. You feel as if you're tempting fate just by pulling back the covers.

You get out of bed and slowly risk a glance at Seamus' bed. He's lying on his back, and you think he's asleep, so you open the door to the staircase and start edging out.

Seamus sits up in bed, and you feel it rather than see it as he looks at you.

You turn around and he's there, half-naked, with an expression of impatience on his face.

"Lav, what are you doing?"

You bite your lip and look down at the floor, trying very hard to keep in the tears that are threatening to escape. You've been pushed to your breaking point for weeks due to the Carrows and DA and helping everyone and it seems like it is time for all of that stress and anguish to combust.

"C'mere" he says, his voice so warm and tender that it melts through that ice box you put around your feelings and you run to him, leaping onto the bed and curling around him, relishing in the heat and warmth that surrounds him as the tears start to fall.

"I can't take it anymore." You whisper, and he presses a scorching kiss to your hair.

"I know. But it won't be for much longer." He soothes, running his hands up and down your arms and back, leaving goosebumps even though his touch is scalding.

He slides back down into bed, and you partially roll off him, until your head is buried in his neck, and your legs are tangled with his. His arms are around you and he pulls the blanket up and over you both. It's a furnace, heating you to the core.

It'll happen fast of course, like a bonfire catching flames and then  _whoosh_ , it's out of control before you realise it's started. And there'll be blazing kisses, and raging arguments, but you'll be perfect together, just like tonight, a fire that burns long into the night with love and affection.

And you might be a delicate flower, and he might be a raging fire, but when you fit together as perfectly as you do, you can't help but build up an immunity to heat.


End file.
